


Peach Flavored Lip Gloss

by catchinglugia



Category: South Park
Genre: femme, trans-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchinglugia/pseuds/catchinglugia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And it’s really tiring, trying constantly. Sometimes he can’t stand anymore. He allows himself a break. </p><p>----</p><p>TW: Trans*phobic slurs</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peach Flavored Lip Gloss

He tries to bury the memories of that night in fourth grade. He tries to keep them locked away. He tries to forget how he liked how he looked with that lip gloss of Wendy’s on—what was it, peach flavored? He tries to forget how he liked that nightgown, or how the girls did his hair. He tries to ignore the girls’ section of the store, tries to turn away from Hello Kitty, Sanrio, merchandise even if it _is_ really cute. He tries to not wear pink or purple or sparkly things. He tries not to steal a little eye shadow or blush from his mother’s collection. He tries to stop himself.

And it’s really tiring, trying constantly. Sometimes he can’t stand anymore. He allows himself a break.

Butters looks at himself in the mirror. With shaking hands he flattens out the pink skirt he has on. His nails are painted a pretty, shimmering blue. He adjusts the straps of his My Melody tank top. His heart hammers and he licks his lips, tasting peach flavored lip gloss.

Both of his parents are at work. He made sure they would be gone. If they saw him…Butters doesn’t even want to think about it. He wouldn’t just get grounded. A strangled sound comes out of his mouth and he pushes it down. He distracts himself by running his fingers through his hair, adjusting his bangs. He doesn’t have a wig on. He remembers how they feel and they itch and it’s really uncomfortable. Besides, he doesn’t really want long hair. And when he thinks about, he doesn’t mind being a boy, or wearing boy clothes. He just likes girly things too. He likes them too quite a lot; too much, maybe.

Butters swallows. He’s a pervert. He’s some crossdressing, transvestite freak. He’s a tranny. He starts rubbing his knuckles together, looking at himself in the mirror. His skin reddens and soon his knuckles start bleeding. He stops and keeps his hands away from his pretty clothes. He doesn’t want to ruin them.

He turns away from his mirror and walks to his bed, where his phone is. He picks it up, looks at the gaudy, feminine case, with its cupcakes and bows and colors. He walks back to the mirror and takes a picture of himself. He posts it to his blog.

 _You look cute_ , someone says.

_I’m sorry that your parents would freak out if they saw you like this._

_Blue nail polish, really? Try red or pink, it would have matched your outfit._

_I hope you can wear stuff like this whenever you want without being scared, Butters. I wish it were better._

Butters swallows. His fingers fly across the keyboard on the screen. _Thank you_ , he types. He adds an “ _n_n”_ emoticon, because it’s cute.

He can hear the door open downstairs. Butters gasps, drops his phone, and quickly slides off his shirt and skirt, throwing them both in the closet. He throws on a black t-shirt and basketball shorts as he hears footsteps coming up the stairs. He glances at his fingernails and sticks his hands in his pockets.

His mother opens the door.

“Hello, Butters,” she says, smiling. She frowns instantly. “Why are you hiding your hands?” She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes.

“It’s—it’s n-nothin’!” Butter says. His mother walks forward, scowling, and Butters swallows and lifts his hands. His mother pauses, looking at them.

“What is this? _Nail polish_?!” she shrieks. Her hand comes fast and whips against Butters cheek. His head turns to the side and he lifts his hand to his face. “I don’t ever want to see that on your nails again! Wash it off right now!” His mother commands. She walks out of the room. “You’re _grounded_.” His door slams shut.

Butter can’t breathe. He sinks to the ground and wraps his arms around himself, ducking his head. He starts crying, trying to stay quiet. He sees his phone still discarded on the floor and picks it up.

 _I wish it were better too,_ he types. He presses the post button and closes his eyes.

The next day his nails are free from any polish. But he keeps on the peach flavored lip gloss. It tastes nice.

**Author's Note:**

> One of my biggest South Park headcanons is that Butters is very femme, and that his parents don’t approve so he can’t wear or act like he wants. I think he would turn to something like Tumblr for support. I know I have, it really helps a lot. (I also think he would have some type of decoden iPhone case—google them, they’re amazing.) Thanks for reading!
> 
> PS: You can't have * in tags so I replaced the * with an -.


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